


Fruit Punch

by FailureArtist



Series: Friendship & Stuff Cinematic Universe [12]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cousin Incest, Cults, Disabled Characters, Discussions of promiscuity, Gen, Goth Girls, Humanstuck, Insane Clown Posse - Freeform, Juggalos, Minnesota Moms, Rap Lyrics, Religion, mentions of right wing politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailureArtist/pseuds/FailureArtist
Summary: April 17, 2016: Kurloz brings Gamzee to his first meeting of the Alternative Insane Clown Posse Fan Club
Relationships: Gamzee Makara/Kurloz Makara, Kurloz Makara/Original Character(s), Meulin Leijon/Kurloz Makara
Series: Friendship & Stuff Cinematic Universe [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532495
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Fruit Punch

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Relationship between first-cousin, one who adopted the other. Right wing metaphor. Discussions about a male character’s promiscuity. Suggested murder. Badly rewritten Insane Clown Posse Lyrics. Again, sorry Juggalos. Blame Hussie.

Gamzee wished that he was driving so Kurloz had his hands free to talk to him. Yet how could Gamzee drive if he did not know where exactly this meeting was taking place? So the two cousins sat in almost silence. Well, Gamzee kept having to gab despite knowing like always Kurloz couldn’t talk and drive. 

“So where this joint be?” Gamzee asked, “Oh, yeah, you said Detroit. But where’s ‘bout Motor City? Downtown? Rivertown with all them hipsters? Greektown? At the casino? Or be it in the ghetto parts?”

Kurloz shook his head. 

“Wait, did you mean suburban Detroit? Do we even be in Wayne County? We going to Ann Arbor? Or Canada, we crossing the border? Do the Church be international? Is their services in French and English?”

Kurloz made the closest noise to a groan he could make with a hole in his throat. 

Gamzee held up his hands in defeat. “Sorry, cuz. I get my quiet on.”

Though Gamzee had only just heard of this church a few days ago, it felt like he had been waiting forever to visit. It had been hard to concentrate at the tattoo parlor WICKED INKS when he came back after his sabbatical. Yet he had to wait until Sunday. He had not thought much on where his older cousin went every other Sunday, having been told it was a support group, but now he was dying to know.

Gamzee and Kurloz were both wearing their concert makeup. Gamzee wondered if this would be more like a Gathering or like a regular church service. 

Kurloz had gone to these meetings in the truck while Gamzee took the bus to the Unitarian Universalist church. Now they could carpool. The universe was working in their favor. 

Finally, Kurloz turned off the highway. After some more driving through a small town, he got on a country road. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call this Detroit, cuz.”

Kurloz shrugged with his hands still on the wheel. 

The country road ended at a two-story lake house in a pine grove by a pond. Many other automobiles were in the vast gravel driveway. Kurloz parked the truck and the two cousins got out.

Gamzee whistled as he appraised the lake house. It blended in nicely with the surrounding, being flat and wide like the land. It was made of tan stone and painted brown wood. The roof hung out wide. Gamzee did not know anything about architecture, though. He did know the vehicles in the driveway were of varying price ranges. Though this house had to cost at least a million bucks, not all the cars did.

Kurloz snapped his fingers and Gamzee looked at him. Kurloz signed.

_Let me do the talking._

“But you can’t…nah, I get what you mean.”

Kurloz nodded.

They did not go in the front door. Kurloz took them around to a lower entrance around back that seemed almost hidden. Gamzee had thought the entrance to the church would be a heavy speakeasy door but this was just a normal door. Kurloz knocked on it. The door was answered by a short, round white woman in juggalo makeup. She reminded Gamzee of Meulin, but she was older, blonde instead of auburn-haired, and wore a sweater with a pug on it instead of a cat. 

“Hello, Kurloz. I see you brought your cousin Gamzee.” She spoke in a heavy Minnesota accent. 

Kurloz brought out his electrolarynx. 

**YES, I PLAN TO HAVE HIM INITIATED.**

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, it’s about time!”

**INDEED IT DO BE.**

The two cousins entered the basement. It was not unfinished; the floor was covered in brown carpet and the walls were painted a bluish-purple. However, there was no furniture except a folding table along one side. Two square columns interrupted the carpet but otherwise it was an open plan. The basement seemingly covered two-thirds of the upper portion of lake house so it was quite large. It could probably fit fifty people. 

Currently, there were only around twenty people. It was hard to tell ages with the heavy makeup but it seemed to be a surprising range. Judging by the hands, though, they were all white. 

“Welcome to the Alternative Insane Clown Posse Fan Club!” the woman in the pug sweater said, “My name is Martha.”

Gamzee turned to Kurloz. “Alternative Insane Clown Posse Fan Club? Martha??”

_Yes, this is the right place._

_“_ Sorry, Martha. Just…well…”

_“_ Yah, I never expected I’d be in a fan club for a rap band, as a middle-aged mother of four. But then around about ‘09 I got these awful migraines. I thought it was just stress after that awful president was elected, but started seeing real weird shit during my auras. When I got down to the bottom of it, I discovered the REAL truth, like…”

She looked at Kurloz.

“But there I go, running my fool mouth, just like my ex-husband! And maybe I shouldn’t tell you my human name, but you’re Kurloz’s people, so I trust you. But if you want to know more doctrine, you gotta go through the same trials as all of us!”

“I’m up for it, ma’am!”

She grasped his hands. “Oooh, such a nice young man you are!”

It was then a grey-haired man in juggalo paint with a white-and-black checkered sweater came down the stairs. Everyone turned to look at him. He made a beeline to the Makaras. Martha stepped out of the way and bowed slightly at the neck while making a double-W. Meanwhile, the gathered devotees went back to their own conversation. 

“Your Amusement,” Martha said.

Though the grey-haired man was shorter than the Makaras (as most people were) and his concert makeup looked a little silly on someone his age, Gamzee still felt much power coming off of him. 

“Ummm…” Gamzee mumbled.

**BISHOP HANK J. KORHONEN, THIS BE MY DESCENDANT GAMZEE MAKARA. GAMZEE MAKARA, BISHOP HANK.**

Bishop Hank spoke in a gruff Yopper accent. “We have been expecting you.”

“You have?” Gamzee squeaked. 

“I know your true name.”

“And it be…?”

Martha said, “You’ll have to go through the trials to find that out!”

“And what if I ain’t willing or able to get myself on up through them motherfucking trials?”

She gave him a playful jab with her elbow. “Oooh, you’ll make it just fine, a strapping young man like you.”

Bishop Hank reiterated, “Do not worry, son. You will make it.”

**I KNOW YOU WILL MAKE IT. THAT IS WHY I BROUGHT YOU HERE.**

Nobody seemed to notice Gamzee had also said “willing” along with “able”. They all assumed he would say “yes”. It made Gamzee feel uncomfortable, even though he was planning on saying yes, right?

“Thanks for y’all’s confidence heaping on me,” Gamzee said.

“Always nice to see a new face,” Martha said.

Bishop Hank said, “You are welcome.”

Some more devotees had taken note of who had come and now had their attention on the Makaras instead of private conversations. A skinny young man who looked more like a typical juggalo came up to ask a question.

“How did Kurloz finally get you into the Church?”

Gamzee’s throat went dry. Was he supposed to answer that question truthfully? Supposedly the Church did not have taboos against incest, but was that enough? He looked at Kurloz.

**GAMZEE HAD A DREAM AND I INTERPRETED THE MOTHERFUCKER.**

The young man nodded. “Same here. Wicked dreams.”

A tall woman in a long black skirt like a 90s goth asked, “What was in the dream?”

Gamzee said, “Well, I was on the beach…there be two moons…and a white sea monster died…and meteors fell…”

Everyone looked impressed, including Kurloz. Gamzee realized he had not told Kurloz that story yet. 

The goth girl gasped and said, “The Reckoning. I had such an ominous dream too.”

Bishop Hank put his arm out. “Do not tell him too much.”

**YES, LEAVE SOME PRECIOUS MYSTERY, BRITTANY.**

Brittany huffed.

“So, I will be gettin’ my learnin’ on?” Gamzee asked.

**EVENTUALLY.**

“That’s a motherfucking relief.”

Bishop Hank said, “I am glad you are eager.”

Gamzee giggled nervously. “Yeah, eager like a motherfuckin’ beaver, ready to slaughter a forest.”

Martha said, “You’re a darling, you know that?” 

**YOU ARE MY BELOVED SON.**

At hearing this praise, Gamzee went to hug Kurloz. Yet Kurloz side-stepped him. Gamzee was left hanging and put his arms down. He saw Bishop Hank giving him a quizzical look. These past days, the Makara cousins had been as physically intimate as they could be, so it hurt Gamzee to be rejected. He didn’t say anything. He knew why they could not hug, given their secret. Besides, he was used to rejection.

Martha asked Kurloz, “So, when is your girlfriend coming?” She giggled nervously. “I mean, she is still your girlfriend, right?”

**SHE’S TAKING HER OWN CAR.**

Martha looked a little disappointed. Gamzee figured she probably didn’t want to wait to see her cat-loving friend. He was looking forward to seeing Meulin too. 

Then there was a knock on the door. Somebody close to it opened the door. Not really much security, Gamzee thought. The subjuggalator was Meulin! She was wearing white-and-black makeup like a kitty.

“Purrloz!” she yelled as she glomped Kurloz like she hadn’t seen him in years.

“Oh, hello Meulin. Bless your heart, you’re here,” Martha said, though Gamzee doubted that Meulin could read her lips.

Kurloz and Meulin spent some time communicating with American Sign Language. Gamzee wondered if anyone else could read ASL, or if Meulin could read any of their lips. In any case, Gamzee felt left out. Bishop Hank had turned to talk with another parishioner. Martha was also occupied with conversation and he would have joined if it didn’t sound like mommy stuff. He wandered off to talk to somebody else. Brittany was available. 

“So,” he asked as casually as he could, “What be this Reckoning?”

She put her lacy-gloved finger up to her painted face. “I can’t tell you now.”

“Can’t even tell a brother about what planet it be on? Is it Mars?”

“No!”

“Well, it ain’t look like no red planet. But then what planet? Why’d it get meteor’d? Are we dinosaurs?”

She leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“I can tell you…” He perked up. “…your cousin has fucked half this chapter.”

“Ummm…”

“And yes, that includes Martha. I guess after four children she needs something big?”

Gamzee felt his cheeks get hot under his paint. “And you?” 

She moved back and flipped her long blonde-and-blue hair. “I actually have taste.”

“Yeah, you got it back in 1998.”

She stared daggers at him, though he had not meant it as an insult. Yet if she had taken it as an insult, that was fair enough. She had insulted his family. 

Then the skinny young man who asked Gamzee how Kurloz had gotten him into the Church came over. He held out his hand.

“Hey Gamzee, my name is Jason.”

Gamzee shook his hand. “Sup, Jason. How long has your motherfucking ass been in this church?”

“A while. How did Kurloz get you in? I know he adopted you five years ago. Why’d he keep you away for so long?”

“Ummm…”

“Come on, tell me.”

Gamzee could almost understand Brittany now. Almost.

Kurloz then came over.

**THE TRUTH HAD NOT BEEN REVEALED TO GAMZEE YET.**

Gamzee asked, “You be getting your listenin’ on?”

Kurloz put his arm around Gamzee’s shoulder and moved him to a group of people. 

**I HAVE MORE PEOPLE I WANT YOU TO MEET.**

Over the next ten minutes, Kurloz introduced him to various people. Meanwhile, the basement filled to capacity. When meet ‘n greet time was over, the lights flipped a couple times. Gamzee and everyone turned to the light switch where Martha was.

“Everyone, take a pillow from the corner!” she yelled as she also signed. So at least one person other than them knew American Sign Language.

Everyone went to a corner to get a colorful throw pillow. Gamzee hadn’t noticed them piled up earlier. He wanted a purple one but those went fast so he settled with red. He liked red anyway.

People then spread out in the basement, each taking a practiced amount of space. They put the pillows on the ground and used them as a seat. There was no idle chatter. Gamzee ended up some distance away from Kurloz and he wanted to switch with someone but he was afraid that wasn’t allowed. Besides, there wasn’t time before the lights flickered again and Bishop Hank spoke.

“Welcome to the Michigan Chapter of the Alternative Insane Clown Posse Fan Club. We have one visitor today. Stand up.”

Gamzee stood up. The gathered people went “Whoop whoop motherfucker!” It was weird seeing Martha, a Minnesota mother of four, doing that chant.

Gamzee raised his left hand. “Sup, folks, my name be -”

Bishop Hank said, “Your human name is unimportant and will not be spoken.”

“Oh, my bad.” Deflated, Gamzee sat back down. 

However, Hank then said, “This member is the first cousin of Kurloz Makara.”

People cheered at that while wondering how come Kurloz’s human name could be said. Then everyone turned back to Bishop Hank.

“After this service, there will be refreshments, provided by our sister here.” Martha waved. “Then the full members will go upstairs for a secret meeting.”

Bishop Hank continued with some other announcements and other than the secret meeting, it just seemed like regular church shit. He wondered what appealed to Kurloz. 

Then, the lights were turned off and another was switched on. Black light filled the room and the walls were covered in words both in English and a foreign language. The English phrases were “HONK HONK”, “CULL ALL THE HERETICS”, and “420 EVERY DAY”. Did those other letters say the same thing? Normally, Gamzee wouldn’t be scared of this haunted house decor, but he wasn’t expecting it at a church of all places. He squeaked embarrassingly.

“Shhh, quiet,” said a voice he recognized as Brittany.

Bishop Hank spoke, his face glowing from the black light, a white juggling club in his hand. 

“We are not human. Our husks are human. But we are not human.”

Everyone, included Kurloz on his electrolarynx, repeated together, “WE ARE NOT HUMAN. WE ARE NOT HUMAN. WE ARE NOT HUMAN.”

“Our souls are not human. Our souls are celestial. We reject the human.”

“WE REJECT THE HUMAN. WE REJECT THE HUMAN. WE REJECT THE HUMAN.”

“Anyone with a human soul, leave now or be culled.”

He pointed to the door with a club. Nobody moved. Gamzee wondered about what species his soul was. If it was human, he wouldn’t be here, right? He’d be dead.

“Humans are cattle. Humans will be culled.”

“CULL THE HUMANS. CULL THE HUMANS.”

“Here, we are all part of the incestuous slurry. Grab a hand.”

Incestuous slurry, hmmm? Gamzee wanted to touch Kurloz’s hand, but it was too far away. He grabbed with his left and was disappointed to find lacy gloves. His right grabbed a rougher hand. 

“Brothers and sister, we are joined together.”

“JOINED TOGETHER. JOINED TOGETHER.” 

Then, a deep bass line vibrated the room from all the speakers in the ceiling. Gamzee wondered if the neighbors would complain before remembering there were none. Well, it would bother the fish in the pond and the birds in the trees. 

However the fish in the pond and the birds in the trees felt, the people in the room were digging the music. Everyone swayed in time and Gamzee joined them. 

Then, came a voice in a language more guttural and strange than Gamzee had ever heard, like Klingon times ten. It spat out rhythms to the rhythm but Gamzee did not know what the voice was saying. He could not even tell the gender.

Whatever the lyrics were, they spoke to Gamzee deep down in his soul. 

Some people went “Fuck yeah!” Gamzee felt like agreeing. 

Brittany said, “Seadwellers…” from some reason.

He felt people wince and he winced too as if the greatest pain had been inflected on him. Yet his heart soared when the song got to what seemed to be the chorus.

It was such a thrilling chorus. Like all choruses, people tried to sing along. It was impossible with this chorus, but these devotees did their best. Gamzee sung too.

There was something weird about that verse.

  
The voices in the song argued briefly before continuing.

  
Did that alien say “gloop”?

Gamzee laughed though he did not get the joke.

  
  


Gamzee nodded. Whatever that verse said, it was relevant to his life. That is how he ran shit.

Those names sounded familiar.

Everybody then stood up.

  
  


Everybody started jumping and yelling a strange word: 

Everybody was getting so carried away with the music.

  
  


Gamzee was transported into ecstasy. His individuality did not exist. He was not human. He was a part of a family. 

  
  


This was exactly where he wanted to be.

That song ended. Everybody sat down again. Yet the music started up again. There were two more songs after that. All of them in that strange language that somehow spoke to him. Everyone stood up and joined in at the end. Yet it all ended too soon. The house-shaking thumping stopped. The black light was turned off and the regular lights turned on. Gamzee winced like he was nocturnal. Bishop Hank came to the front again.

“Thank you all for coming. We will set out refreshments and then the full members will come upstairs for our service in ten minutes.”

Everyone gathered their pillows and put them in the corner. Gamzee felt sweaty and he saw a few other people were sweaty. The basement did feel suffocatingly hot now. 

Kurloz and Meulin went over to Gamzee.

Kurloz signed. _Did you enjoy your first service?_

Gamzee nodded.

Meulin signed wide enough she almost hit someone. _It is so much fun I could explode!!_

Gamzee asked, “Can you even be hearing the music?”

_I hear it in my soul, silly! It’s the only music I can hear!_

That made perfect sense to Gamzee.

“What tongue was that fine noise set in? Latin?”

Kurloz got out his electrolarynx. **NOT LATIN. NOT HUMAN.**

Martha and another woman set out red punch and assorted cookies. The punch was Faygo Fruit Punch, of course. The assorted cookies were not the best but he was hungry.

Brittany said, “Full members get an actual meal.”

That was just typical Brittany.

Some nicer members came over to Gamzee and asked him what his opinion of the service was. Gamzee was effluent in praise.

“Oh boy, you’ll love it when you get the full service,” Martha said.

“I will?” Gamzee asked.

“My ex-husband did not like it, but you sure will.”

Soon enough, it was time for the full members to go upstairs. Only a handful of people were left down in the basement. They picked over what was left of the spread. Gamzee did wish there was a full meal. 

With Kurloz and Meulin upstairs doing whatever they were doing, Gamzee went outside for some fresh air. However, there was someone outside smoking. She was a tall, busty, Asian woman wearing a green Chinese-style dress with a long slit in it. Given how far this house was from everything, she couldn’t have just wandered by, but why was she not at the service?

Gamzee said as he walked up to her, “What you be doing here by your motherfuckin’ badass self?”

She rolled her eyes. “You white and you talk like that? Typical.”

He took a deep breath. “Well? What are you doing here?”

“I go where church business is.”

“Who do you be?”

“I am the Handmaid,” she said, “You call me Demoness.”

“Handmaid? Demoness?”

“I am secretary for leader.” She grinned wide. “I also like cutting boys up.”

“You be Bishop Hank’s secretary?”

“No, higher leader. Highest leader.”

“What motherfucker would that be?”

She blew smoke in Gamzee’s face. Gamzee coughed.

“Not telling.”

“One day, I’m gonna get myself up to member, then even higher than highest.”

“Not likely. You not as impressive as Kurloz. Just little kid.”

“You be knowing Kurloz?”

She laughed bitterly. “Everyone know Kurloz. Even Bishop Hank. If you know what I mean.”

So that was two people calling Kurloz a slut. It might be true. But Bishop Hank? That motherfucker was ancient.

“You fucked my cousin?” 

“Yes. Now you fuck your cousin. Funny how life work.”

Gamzee squeaked. How did she know?

“Um, man, that be a crazy weird thing to say to a motherfucker, you know?”

“I tell truth.”

“It ain’t wrong, ain’t it? Because incestuous slurry?”

She crossed her arms over her large chest. “I do not care. Human mores.”

“Do you be human?” Gamzee asked. He wondered if he was supposed to kill her barehanded if she said yes.

“Of course not. Cursed with alien soul, like you.”

“Why’d you not go to service, then?”

“Service give me headache. Anyway, that service for little kids. Like you.”

“I thought it be a bombass service.”

“You would think that.”

“You ain’t even knowing me from Adam.” 

She gave him a withering look. She dropped her finished cigarette and grounded it beneath her green heel before immediately lighting another one.

“You do not remember me.”

“Was I supposed to be knowin’ you?”

“I suppose no. Tell Rufioh’s cousin hello for me.”

Gamzee flinched as if she had hit him with an arrow.

“Do I be knowin’ you?”

“You figure it out.”

“Why you such a freaky mysterious bitch?”

“Because I am something that rhyme with bitch.”

“Plus you a bitch.”

From the house, there came a scream.

Gamzee asked, “What the fuck was that?!”

“Sacrifice.”

“You joking?”

“Another mystery for you.”

She then wandered off to the front of the house. He went back inside the basement. It was less full than it was before, but nobody was dead. Nobody looked worried.

“What be happening?” Gamzee asked the closest person, a short man with Make America Great Again hat.

He shrugged. “This is just my third meeting. I’ll find out soon.”

Everyone else had similar answers. Gamzee decided if they weren’t worried, he shouldn’t worry either. He then started making small talk with everyone. It was no use talking about church business when nobody down in the basement knew anything.

Eventually, the full members came down the stairs, including Kurloz and Meulin. The two came over to Gamzee. Gamzee again wanted to hug Kurloz but he knew he couldn’t. 

Meulin did hug Gamzee and very tightly. She pulled back and he could see her paint was smeared. 

“These meetings are SO intense! I’m glad you are here!”

“What be that scream?”

“Oh, the meetings are SO intense! Very intense! But it’s impurrtant work!”

“Did you sacrifice a motherfucker?”

Kurloz signed, _Don’t ask questions._

Meanwhile, Meulin said, “Don’t worry about it! Everything is fine! No member died!”

“But what ‘bout a motherfucker who ain’t a…”

Kurloz signed again with a fierce scowl and Gamzee stopped asking questions.

Meulin kissed Kurloz and made her way to the door.

“I’ll see you at home!” she yelled as she backed away.

Kurloz signed, _I love you._

Meulin threw a kiss and then left.

Gamzee said to Kurloz, “So, we ain’t got time to…”

Kurloz put his finger to his lips and Gamzee didn’t finish his question. Kurloz then turned to Bishop Hank and talked to him about how fishing in the pond and hunting in the woods were going. Nothing important, or so it seemed to Gamzee. When that conversation was done, Kurloz took Gamzee by the arm and they left for the truck. 

Kurloz drove away from the lakehouse and when they were just out of sight he pulled the truck over to the side of the road. He turned to Gamzee.

Kurloz signed, _You ask too many questions._

Gamzee said, “Sorry, cuz.”

Kurloz signed _boy_ and then _friend_. 

“Boyfriend…”

Kurloz then kissed Gamzee. Gamzee’s dick twitched. However, Kurloz soon pulled away.

_Good job not telling people,_ he signed.

“Did you really fuck Bishop Hank?”

_H-a-n-k is important. Why would I not join with him?_

“What about that spooky secretary…what’s her name…”

_You met the witch in green?_

Gamzee nodded.

_She is also important._

“And Martha?”

Kurloz banged his head gently on the steering wheel before answering.

_Once. Before I reunited with Kitty Bitch._

“What about Brittany?”

_I love you._

“I know but Brittany? And everyone else?”

_I have a large sex drive. That is who I am._

“Can I be fucking other people?”

_Why would you need anyone else?_

“Ummm…”

_Tell me why._

“Never mind.”

_Be a good boyfriend and I will be a good boyfriend._

“Okay, I’ll be cool.”

Kurloz nodded. He started the truck back up again. They drove off the country road and eventually got on the highway home.

There were so many questions that Gamzee had. What did the Church worship? Who were the Mirthful Messiahs? What was that soulful language? What happened upstairs? What was that scream? What was the deal with the Handmaid? Yet now was the time for silence. He would discover the answers soon enough, if he was a good boy. He could be a good boy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to everyone who can read Alternian.


End file.
